Prologue: Bai Chen's Last Stand
The heavens trembled.
Darkness, thick and writhing, coiled through the sky like ink spilled across silk, devouring the stars one by one. Beneath it, the Zhuhai Range, a vast mountainous expanse, bore the scars of battle—a thousand peaks, each a sacred testament to the heavens' order, now sundered beyond recognition. Rivers once pure as crystal churned into searing torrents, swathes of untouched forest were reduced to charred husks. The very air seethed with residual qi, the elements bending and twisting in the presence of an unfathomable force.
And at the heart of it all was the Abyssal Serpent.
Its body, vast enough to eclipse an entire city, wove through the sky, its scales a shifting void that swallowed all light. Each breath it exhaled corroded the land below, turning stone to dust, water to poison. The corruption spread outward with terrifying speed, consuming all in its wake. Its molten eyes—pits of endless chaos—gazed down with unshaken malice upon the lone, tiny figure that opposed it.
Bai Chen.
The Celestial Sage stood atop the highest peak, his robes tattered, his body drenched in blood both his and not. His breath came shallow, each inhale drawing in the fading embers of his own waning strength. In his right hand, a fragment of his broken staff, once a symbol of his peerless might and wisdom. In his left, he held the Celestial Talisman, its crescent jade surface flickering with dim, ancient light.
"Nothing remains, Bai Chen," the Serpent’s voice reverberated across the sky, neither spoken nor heard, but felt deep within the bones. "You are inconsequential, a flickering flame, and I… I am the abyss."
Bai Chen wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and straightened. "Fitting, then," he murmured, voice hoarse yet resolute. "For a sage to fall in the face of the heavens' test."
The Serpent lunged.
Bai Chen moved.
Golden runes flared to life around him, carving intricate formations into the very sky. The heavens split as a vast sigil materialized above the battlefield, its shape ever-shifting, containing characters too ancient for mortal comprehension. The Celestial Talisman burned in his grasp, its dormant power roaring to life. The air thickened, the mountains groaned, and the weight of the technique pressed upon the world itself.
But even as Bai Chen invoked the heavens' will, he felt the truth clawing at the edges of his resolve—this would not be enough. He had spent years preparing, reforging his very soul, sacrificing all to prevent this moment from ever arriving. And yet, here he stood, battered and failing, a man out of time, facing a force that should have been sealed away forever.
A twisted landscape was already beginning to form.
All around them, the ground withered and fractured, formerly rich veins of qi unraveling as the Serpent’s presence corrupted the earth. Trees once verdant shriveled into skeletal remains, their trunks blackened by negative void energy. The rivers foamed, turning acrid as mist coiled from the poisoned waters. The corruption spread far beyond the mountain range, creeping toward the horizon, with no visible signs of weakening.
"The cycle must end," Bai Chen whispered, fingers tightening around the Talisman. He drew upon his last reserves, his soul incinerating like a dying star, and cast the final seal.
"Celestial Seal: Heavens' Final Binding!"
The Serpent screamed. It writhed, void clashing against divine light as the sigil descended, locking around its immense form. The earth cracked, the sky howled—Bai Chen poured the last dregs of his essence into the Talisman, forcing the abyss itself into submission.
The Serpent struggled. It thrashed against the heavens, its coils whipping through the sky in desperation. Its molten eyes burned with realization. It could not escape.
"You will not hold me forever, Celestial Sage!" it bellowed, its voice a shuddering pulse of hatred. "The seal will fail! And when it does, not even the heavens shall stand against me!"
A voice, ancient and impassive, stirred within the Talisman as its power crystallized.
"This is not the end. Another will come. The cycle continues."
The Serpent’s roars turned into a final, deafening hiss before it was consumed, dragged into the void prison woven into the Talisman’s core.
And then, silence.
The once fertile land was gone. In its place stood the Voidwood, a seemingly endless scar upon the continent, its trees gnarled and gasping for life, its air thick with whispers of the past. The Serpent was defeated, but the price had been steep.
Bai Chen exhaled one final breath as his form began to disintegrate. As the last of him faded into the wind, his words carried forth, though none remained to hear them:
"Heir of mine, when the Talisman calls, do not falter."
The Celestial Sage was no more—only the Talisman remained, glowing faintly among the ashes.
And then it, too, fell into slumber.
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Centuries Later
Truth had long since been swallowed by myth. Scholars still debated the nature of the Voidwood’s corruption, each theory more speculative than the last. Some whispered of a war among immortals that broke the land, while others claimed a calamity of unknown origin that fell from the heavens. Bai Chen’s name had faded from history, lost to time.
Among the sects, the origins of the Voidwood fractured into half-truths and embellishments. Tales of the Celestial Talisman were wiped from recorded knowledge, replaced by warnings of a cursed land that few dared to traverse. Though myths persisted, the truth eroded with time, until most believed the Voidwood had always been there, a scar from an age beyond mortal reckoning.
And yet, even in the heart of the vast Voidwood, life endured. Pockets of normalcy existed and increasingly flourished—isolated realms, somehow untouched by the surrounding corruption, where sects and civilization persisted in defiance of the land’s curse. Within one such haven, nestled deep among towering, untainted trees, lay the Verdant Valley, where qi still flowed and the heavens still smiled upon the living.
It was here that a young man named Wei Lin lived, his world contained by the borders of his people's last refuge. He had never stepped beyond the great boundary stones, had never ventured into the depths of the Voidwood.
But soon, he would have no choice.
Somewhere, deep within the Verdant Valley, a pulse of golden light flickered beneath the roots of an ancient tree—weak, uncertain, as if waking from an eternity of silence. A whisper, unheard yet felt, carried through the still air.
"The seal weakens. The heir must awaken."
A slumbering fate stirred. And Wei Lin, though unaware, took his first step toward destiny.
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The story begins.
Below is a translation of the chapter into Chinese (via ChatGPT).
以下是通过ChatGPT将本章翻译成中文。
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封天遗志
序章：白辰之最后一战
天穹震颤。
漆黑如墨，翻涌缠绕，如同墨汁洒落丝绸，吞噬着星辰，逐一熄灭。其下，珠海山脉，辽阔的山岳横亘大地，战火的痕迹历历可见——千座巍峨的峰峦，每一座曾是天地秩序的神圣见证，如今却被撕裂，面目全非。曾经澄澈如水的河流，如今变作滚烫的洪流，山林一片荒芜，化作焦炭的遗骸。空气中弥漫着残余的气息，元素在一股无法言喻的力量面前扭曲与变形。
而这一切的中心，正是深渊巨蛇。
其身躯庞大无比，足以吞噬整座城市，盘旋在天际，鳞片如同流动的虚空，吞噬一切光明。每一次吐息，便腐蚀大地，化石为尘，水为毒。腐化迅速蔓延，吞噬一切，无所遁形。其熔岩般的双目，充满混沌与怒意，死死盯住那唯一的、对抗它的渺小身影。
白辰。
天焰圣人屹立于山巅，袍襟破碎，身躯沾满了鲜血，既有自己的，也有他人的。气息微弱，每一次吸气，都是在吸入他那渐行渐远的力量余烬。右手紧握着一段断裂的法杖，曾是他无敌威仪与智慧的象征。左手则紧握天命符，符上的弯月状翡翠微光闪烁，带着一股古老的气息。
“无物可留，白辰。”深渊巨蛇的声音震荡天地，非言非声，却直击心骨，传入骨髓深处。它低沉而空洞，“你不过是微弱的火光，而我……我便是深渊。”
白辰擦去嘴角的血迹，挺起了身躯，“如此便好。”他低声道，声音沙哑，却依旧坚定，“圣人临终，亦应接受天命之考。”
深渊巨蛇扑来。
白辰动了。
金色的符文如潮水般激荡而起，环绕其身，刻画出一座座复杂的阵法。天穹裂开，战场上空，显现出一个庞大的印记，印中的符文不断变化，古老的字形无法被凡人理解。天命符在他手中燃烧，沉睡的力量瞬间觉醒。空气凝重，山岳低吟，仿佛连天地也在压迫下呻吟。
然而即使白辰发动了天命之力，他仍感到一种不安的真相在侵蚀着他的决心——这，远远不够。他曾花费数年之力，重铸灵魂，付出一切，才试图避免此刻的到来。可如今，他却如同失落的时代之人，身心俱疲，面对着那曾应永远封印的恐怖之力。
一片扭曲的景象开始在四周成型。
他们周围的大地开始枯萎与裂开，原本富饶的气脉，如今在巨蛇的存在下逐渐崩解。曾经郁郁葱葱的树木，变得干枯，树干被负面虚空之力腐蚀成焦黑。河流翻滚，水面上泛起毒雾，空气弥漫着腐蚀的气息，远处的天际也被这黑暗笼罩，似无任何减弱的迹象。
“此循环，必当终结。”白辰低语，手指紧握天命符。他汲取着最后一丝力量，灵魂如同一颗垂死的星辰般燃烧起来，施下了最后的封印。
“天封：天地终束！”
深渊巨蛇怒吼，虚空与神光交织碰撞，印记如雷霆降临，锁住了它庞大的身躯。大地裂开，天穹咆哮——白辰将最后的精华注入天命符，强行将深渊之力压制。
深渊巨蛇奋力挣扎，虚空的巨鳞扭动如风暴，它的熔岩之目充满了绝望的清醒——它无法逃脱。
“你无法永远束缚我，天焰圣人！”它嘶吼道，声音中充满了愤怒的颤动，“封印必将崩解！届时，连天地也无法阻止我！”
天命符内，传来一声古老而冷漠的声音，力量凝结成实。
“此非终结，另有继任者。循环不息。”
深渊巨蛇的咆哮变为最后一声撕裂天地的嘶鸣，随后被吞噬，拖入了天命符核心中的虚空牢笼。
一切归于沉寂。
曾经肥沃的土地不复存在，取而代之的，是那无尽的虚空林，犹如一道无法愈合的伤疤，蔓延在大陆之上。树木扭曲枯萎，空气中充满着来自过去的低语。而深渊巨蛇虽已败北，但所付出的代价极为沉重。
白辰缓缓吐出最后一口气，身形逐渐消散。当他最后一丝身影化为风中的尘埃时，他的话语依旧响彻天地，虽然无人再能听见：
“汝之继承者，当天命符召唤之时，切莫踌躇。”
天焰圣人已然陨落，唯一剩下的，唯有那在灰烬中微光闪烁的天命符。
它，也终究沉睡。
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数百年后
真相早已被吞噬为神话。学者们依旧争论着虚空林的腐化之源，每一理论皆充满猜测。有人低声传闻，或许是神仙之间的大战打破了大地，也有说法称是某种未知的灾难自天而降。白辰之名早已淡出史册，时间将它吞噬殆尽。
在各大宗门之间，虚空林的起源早已变成了半真半假的传说，天命符的故事从史籍中消失，只留下了对这片诅咒之地的警告，鲜有人敢踏足。尽管神话未曾熄灭，然而真相却随着岁月的流逝逐渐消磨殆尽，直到大多数人相信，虚空林自古便在，乃是来自遥远岁月的伤痕，超越凡人的记忆。
然而，哪怕是在这虚空林的深处，生命依旧顽强地存在着。许多小天地依然如常，甚至越来越繁荣—那些被腐化气息所包围的孤立之境，依旧有着宗门与文明的延续，奋力抵抗着这片土地的诅咒。在其中某个隐秘之地，深藏在古树丛中，便是青翠谷，气脉依旧流转，天地依然垂青于这片生灵。
在这片土地上，生活着一位名为魏林的年轻人，他的世界被这片族人的最后避难所所束缚。他从未踏出过那伟大的界碑，也从未进入虚空林的深处。
然而，很快，他将无可避免地踏上命运的征途。
在青翠谷深处，一棵古树根部下，忽然有一道微弱的金光闪烁——那光芒不坚定，仿佛从无尽的沉寂中醒来。空气中传来了一丝无声却能感知的低语。
"封印开始衰弱，继承者必须觉醒。"
沉睡的命运，悄然觉醒。魏林尚不知晓，踏上了自己的命运之路。
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故事，已然开始。
